


The Lost One's Weeping

by Mother_of_a_Grape_Gremlin



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Depression, Hallucinations, I just couldn't think of a better title, M/M, Not Happy, Post Game, There's cutting and self hate, Toko is mentioned but only as a passing thought, angst with no happy, did I mention self hate?, don't read if you can't handle heavy topics such as depression and cutting, first fic fam, the happiness has been obliterated, the song has nothing to do with the story, vr au, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 16:37:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20915210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_of_a_Grape_Gremlin/pseuds/Mother_of_a_Grape_Gremlin
Summary: First fanfic ever.Okay. Without spoiling the story, all I can really say is that it's depressing af. It's not happy. It's 3rd person POV. You've been warned.





	The Lost One's Weeping

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to say one last time DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE HEAVY ANGST. That is all, you've been warned. Also the formatting is horrible and makes me cringe. Edit: I finally figured out paragraph breaks.

With each slice on his wrist, Kokichi cut deeper. The cuts on his limbs started at the junction between wrist and hand, then spread up his arm. The supreme leader was always careful not to cut too deep. It wasn’t that he wanted to die, he knew he deserved to suffer and that after death there was no Hell waiting for him. Besides, his death would bring pointless suffering to his precious Shuichi. Shuichi, the one person who understood him. The one person who accepted him despite all the lies. No matter how bad things got, the detective stayed with him and encouraged him. He was Kokichi’s reason to keep going.

  
Disinfecting the cuts Kokichi wrapped his arms in bandages which instantly went crimson. He was glad that his preference for loose, long sleeves hid the evidence of his arrogance. His pride would kill him someday, however hollow that pride was now.

  
The sound of his cellphone buzzing broke the silence, startling Kokichi. It was rare for him to either be called or texted by someone; he was usually the one reaching out. To be on the receiving end confused and excited him. Someone wanted to talk to him! He tucked his purple locks behind his ears and eagerly unlocked his phone to read a text sent to him by Shuichi

.  
Shumai <3 at 17:00 today, Monday January 11: Ouma-kun, I know what you’ve been doing. It wasn’t hard to notice, what with you flinching whenever someone grabs your arm. I can assume why you’re doing it but there’s no point. You can never be forgiven. As I said in the game, you’re alone and always will be. We were never friends and I hated the games you forced me to play, they were as boring as you. I never want to see you again.

  
The message sent a wave of dizziness through him, worse than losing blood, and the smile he had faded. Did his beloved really send this?

  
Kokichi’s heart shattered into thousands of tiny fragments as the content of the text fully hit him, just like the mirror he had unconsciously thrown his switchblade at. The him that was reflected, broken and warped, now showed his true self. Afterall, he himself was a damaged wreck of who he was before the killing game. Before Danganronpa.

  
Kokichi slid to the floor, ignoring the bite of the mirror shards, and curled up into a ball. Loud, ugly sobs wracked his body and he hugged his knees. Crimson blood dulled, purple hair greyed, and the blue tile became muted as his world was painted in monochrome.

  
Why? Why did this have to happen? The one person Kokichi thought understood him wanted nothing to do with him anymore. The one childhood friend who had stayed with him when all the others left chose to abandon him now? After everything… It was cruel—too cruel. This hurt more than Shuichi’s words in the killing game.

  
“You are alone, and you always will be.”

  
Shuichi had apologized after the simulation ended, once his memories were returned, so why was he leaving Kokichi behind after everything? Now he had no one.

  
“You are alone.”

  
Coldness seeped into Kokichi, either from the tile of the bathroom floor or from his broken heart, he wasn’t sure, as he uncurled himself and reached for his knife with a shaky hand. With a single click the blade swung out. He held it to his throat, pressing lightly, and drew blood. All he had to do was cut deeper, like with his wrists.

  
His courage failed him though, he couldn’t do it.

  
Kokichi couldn’t slit his throat and end it all.

  
Darkness crept into his vision. The comfort of nothingness dragged him under. He didn’t resist.

  
“You will always be alone.”

Time passed in a haze, he shifted between reality and nightmare. Which one was which? He stirred from his slumber, images of his classmates’ dead bodies haunting him. Still bleeding from the cuts on his arms, he cradled his head as he tried to figure out where he was and how much time has passed. Had it been hours since he last took his knife to himself? Kokichi didn’t know and, frankly, didn’t care.

  
Still in his bathroom, Kokichi sipped at the cup of water he had poured for himself the last time he had been awake, seeing the hydraulic press that had killed him in the small bit of water. His stomach groaned. How long had it been since he last ate? Did it matter?

  
The sound of a door opening caught his attention. Hopefully, it was the serial killer who was two grades his senior coming to kill him, what was her name again? Toko Fukawa? Or was it the other one? Genocide Jack.

  
The intruder’s footsteps weren’t quiet, they were quite loud, each one fell like thunder. He laughed, more like coughed. His uninvited guest was horribly incompetent. The trespasser must’ve heard Kokichi since the footsteps rushed over to the other side of the bathroom door. He heard his intruder fumble with the lock.

  
After a minute or two, Kokichi rose on unsteady legs and opened the door. His legs gave out when he saw his trespasser was Shuichi. The look on his beloved’s face shifted from relief to horror as he caught Kokichi and wrapped his arms around the supreme leader’s waist.

  
Kokichi wanted to speak up but couldn’t find the right words to say to the other. Shuichi carried him to the front room of the dark apartment. There were bags of groceries laid haphazardly on the floor near the front door along with a few DVDs. Why though? Was it supposed to be for their movie night? Was it Sunday already? After Shuichi helped him onto the couch, he rushed back to the bathroom where Kokichi kept his first aid kit.

  
“Why would you do this?”

  
Shuichi’s voice broke the silence between them. Kokichi kept quiet, there wasn’t a reason that would please the detective. Instead, he watched the other man tend to him. How many times had he done this to himself? Cleaning wounds and wrapping them was second nature to him but the gentle way Shuichi handled him sent waves of emotion through Kokichi. The most prominent being irritation. Why was he here? Wasn’t Shuichi the one who wanted nothing to do with him? Why couldn’t he stop his tears?

  
Kokichi flinched when Shuichi’s thumbs touched his face, wiping away his tears. He had to be dreaming. Shuichi couldn’t be here and especially couldn’t be treating him like he was worth something. Lies. That’s what this was. Just lies upon lies. Had the blood loss finally caused him to hallucinate?

  
Warm arms wrapped themselves around Kokichi. He clung to the detective and buried his face into the other’s neck. Effectively hiding his face from view. Sobs shook his frame. Damn it! Why was he so weak? Kokichi hated the comfort he felt when Shuichi embraced him, and he hated the way he completely lost control.

  
Time froze while Kokichi was clinging onto Shuichi, his sobs gradually fading. At some point he heard the detective hum a lullaby from their childhood, just like he used to when they were kids and Kokichi was crying except…it was off tune. He pulled away and looked into the other’s grey eyes. They were...gold? Rubbing his eyes, Kokichi looked back into his beloved’s eyes. Still gold. It was then he noticed how cold they both were, Shuichi felt like he was made of ice. What was going on?

“Have you not realized it yet?” Shuichi’s voice was just as cold as his body felt, if not more so. Before Kokichi could ask what he meant his beloved sprouted leathery wings and pitch-black ram horns. His eyes glowed an acid yellow, his teeth elongated into points, his skin turned storm-cloud grey with ebony spirals framing his face, and his hands had become claws.  
What the Hell? Was he still hallucinating?

  
“You’re not hallucinating, that should be obvious. Your mind is too logical to conjure up demons but make no mistake, we exist. Despite what you may believe. Now, you’re coming with me.” The demon pulled out a pistol from nowhere and pointed it at Kokichi’s forehead then, after what felt like centuries, pulled the trigger. The last thing the supreme leader saw before the cold hand of death took him was the demon smiling while looking exactly like his beloved, the demonic traits had receded.


End file.
